


crash into me

by girlwithacinderblockgarden



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: He's also a little shit, Louis' assets are so great that they destroy walls, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 15:10:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7057594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlwithacinderblockgarden/pseuds/girlwithacinderblockgarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT - “We live in adjacent apartments and one day I accidentally knocked a hole in the wall and into your living room I’m really sorry oh my god you’re naked”</p>
<p>“You’re the one who’s sitting in the middle of my living room.”<br/>“Only because Liam is a right oaf and managed to knock me on me arse into the wall, and apparently, they’re not up to regulation standard if they can’t support me arse. What does this building think it is? A place where no one has a lay against the wall? Mind you, if anyone tried, they’d be giving a show, apparently, since the architecture isn’t sound enough.”<br/>“I’d suppose one’s arse has to be fairly impressive in order to take down an entire wall.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	crash into me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tieduptwoships](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tieduptwoships/gifts).



> this was a pinch hitter fic. so I hope I did your idea justice and you enjoy it!   
> going to go ahead and apologize that it's under 4k, but work ended up taking over before I could give it proper attention.

There were a lot of things in this world that Louis Tomlinson was particularly adept at. He was great at football, could pull easily in a club without actually trying, knew how to open a beer bottle with his bare hands, and was a master at taking someone down via sarcasm. He was friendly, outgoing, and loud, and he wasn’t the worst roommate, provided someone else did all the cooking for him.  
What Louis Tomlinson wasn’t particularly adept at was being a neighbour. It wasn’t his fault, exactly. When he had first moved into his flat in London post-uni , he was so caught up in the rush of a new city and a new job that he completely ignored everything in the flat complex in favor of exploring as much as he could. And when he found out that his adjacent neighbour had moved out, he felt a twinge of regret for never having said hello or inviting them around for a cuppa. He promised himself that he would make more of an effort with the next one.   
He had made this promise with his flatmate, Niall, and while Niall was all about making a new friend eventually, he also made Louis swear that he wouldn’t attempt to bake cookies, and instead, they’d bring over a six pack of beer or some tea—something that wouldn’t result in having to use the miniature fire extinguisher they had invested in after the last time Louis baked. (Just because the fire station had made a trip to their dorm and the entire student body had been yanked out of slumber at 2am because he had a hankering for oatmeal raisin after a night out didn’t mean that he couldn’t walk in the kitchen anymore, he had reasoned. Niall’s eyes had narrowed, and before Louis could argue, he had been hoisted in the air, flung over his shoulder, and deposited back on the couch with a bowl of cereal. He didn’t try to go in the kitchen again. The new flat was nice, and honestly, he didn’t want to burn it down.)  
But by the time a new person had moved in next door, Louis was caught up in his job at the children’s theatre academy, and was constantly running to and from work without a care in the world as to what was going on inside the flat complex again. There were no new faces in the lift whenever he got on, and no one had shown up in the hall. And as no new faces showed up, Louis simply forgot about the new neighbour next door, and continued on with his life.   
\--  
Louis Tomlinson may have sucked at being a neighbour, but he was excellent at being a lad. And with being a lad, he did enjoy hosting the occasional (every other weekend) FIFA tournament at his flat. Niall had insisted that every weekend could not be full of men invading his home for loud yelling and beer drinking and swearing at the television set, so Louis had made it an every other weekend deal. He could give the man some peace. He wasn’t a complete heathen.  
The tournament had very simple rules. You had to show up with some kind of alcoholic beverage, food would be ordered and costs split, and if anything got broken in the process of swearing at the TV and playing FIFA, they had to pay Niall for a replacement. Heckling was strongly encouraged, and a match could be won by wrestling if the need arose. Louis, frankly, found that need to arise frequently, because his trash talking was often deterrent from his playing, and he had a pressing and constant need to win at everything.  
This particular Saturday had brought about a FIFA tournament for the ages. At least, it was in Louis’ mind. Snacks were everywhere, and he was loud and happy. He was happy until Liam started winning against him. At that point, he declared unfair advantage and climbed halfway into Liam’s lap to knock the controller out of his hands, which led to a tickling match, which led to Louis further in Liam’s lap, and Liam having enough of it. Liam took matters into his own hands at that point, and simply picked Louis up and smacked him thoroughly against the wall, arse first, as he had done many times before. Louis expected this move, having experienced it in the past, and continued to wage war on Liam’s sides.  
What he wasn’t expecting was the wall to give, and to end up squarely in the living room of his neighbour’s flat. Which, of course, was exactly what was happening to him. He was flat on his arse in the middle of the floor, and before good decency could come to him, he was staring blatantly at the (admittedly impressive) cock in front of his face.   
(The cock had to belong to someone, mind you, and by the looks of it, he was a right git to have not been over next door to introduce himself to its owner.)  
“Oh, bloody hell, you’re completely starkers.”  
The owner of the cock was silent for a moment. But he made no moves to cover himself, which was taking Louis off guard.   
“You’re the one who’s sitting in the middle of my living room.”  
“Only because Liam is a right oaf and managed to knock me on me arse into the wall, and apparently, they’re not up to regulation standard if they can’t support me arse. What does this building think it is? A place where no one has a lay against the wall? Mind you, if anyone tried, they’d be giving a show, apparently, since the architecture isn’t sound enough.”  
“I’d suppose one’s arse has to be fairly impressive in order to take down an entire wall.”  
Louis was still too dazed by the owner of the cock in front of him to contemplate anything else.  
“Are you going to continue to sit there for a while? I want to know if I should get pants, or just a sheet to cover up the hole in my wall.”  
“Be a shame to hide that from everyone, mate.”  
The sound of laughter from behind him was a pressing reminder that he was very much not alone in this man’s flat, and there were a significant number of friends watching him ogle this man’s cock like he was completely daft. The man, however, just raised his eyebrows lazily at Louis, and Louis was fucked.   
There were a lot of things Louis Tomlinson was particularly adept at, but ignoring gorgeous men who were basically inviting him to continue admiring their cocks was not one of them. Frankly, he was horrible at it, and he absentmindedly had considered it was the reason his voice was so raspy. He was also largely terrible at asking people on dates.  
“Can I take it out – take you out for dinner sometime?”  
The man laughed, and nodded. Louis smiled, eyes crinkling slightly, before a notion occurred to him.   
“Oi, what’s your name, anyhow?”  
“Harry. You can pick me up tomorrow at 8.”  
\--  
It’s different getting ready for a date where he knows nothing about the person except for the fact that his eyes are very green and his cock is gorgeous. It makes it harder to concentrate, for sure, but it also adds to the sense of adventure. Louis laces up his Vans with a sense of purpose, and slaps a beanie on for good measure. He’s ready.   
The wall has been patched up momentarily with a few sheets, and Liam has agreed to pick up the bill for what’s not covered by insurance. But Louis isn’t too mad that it’s so flimsy, because as it turns out, Harry sings when he’s bored. He’s quite good, too, but it’s been hilarious to hear You Me At Six coming at him while pouring his morning cuppa, and then Sinatra while he brushed his teeth. It’s endearing to hear, really, and he maintains that music tastes will tell you the most about a person. So knowing that he’s bouncing from modern to classic and appreciating a variety of artists means that he’s got something more to him, and Louis wants to know more. He’s craving it, and not just because he wants in his pants. He does. But he wants more.   
He wants to know where he got the quilt that was on his couch. What he eats for breakfast. How he takes his tea, or if he prefers coffee, the heathen. He’s known the lad for all of a few hours, and he’s already in deep.  
\--  
Louis Tomlinson does not do nervous. Except for now, apparently. The nerves that come before a first date should have been busted upon seeing Harry fully nude, but they still kept coming, swirling up in his stomach and making him sure he was going to puke before ever getting out the door.   
But Harry opened his door, and looked at him like he’d never been looked at before, and suddenly, Louis was taken aback by reality that was this man. Sure, he had seen his cock, and it was a very nice one, but his eyes sparkled slightly, and his curls bounced as he swung around to grab his jacket, and the hints of the ink he’d already seen on his body were absolutely killing him. (Not to mention the trousers he was wearing. They hugged him like pure sin, and he couldn’t believe his luck.)  
“So, where are you taking me, Louis?”  
Louis gaped like a simpleton at his words, and couldn’t formulate a response properly. Granted, Harry’s mouth looked wet and inviting, and his posture was just begging to be thrown up against a wall, but Louis no longer trusted the architecture of this establishment, so that would have to wait.  
“It’s… a surprise?”  
He had never sounded more unconfident in his life.   
The small talk continued on the way to his favorite pub, and until he had a pint in him, he was probably the worst date on the planet.  
But with a pint in him, Harry’s eyes on him, and surrounded by football, he began to talk.  
“I’m a director at a children’s theatre downtown. We’re actually working on this American musical, Thoroughly Modern Millie, which makes no sense at all, but the kids love it, and they’re really talented. I studied drama in uni, but I didn’t want to try to make it as an actor on the West End. Too much pressure, you know? I wanted to be able to have a life, friends, a family, you know? Not be tied to whatever role I’m playing at the time. And I love teaching kids. They’re incredible little sponges, picking up what you need them to, and it’s incredible watching them grow and shine.”  
“I’m a freelancer at a local magazine. I get the pressure. Didn’t want someone constantly telling me how to express myself, so I figured I’d do something less restrictive and more creative.”  
It was a good thing Liam was running the bar that night and kept them well supplied in drinks.  
“You never did tell me what it was that got you shoved into a wall.”  
“Does it truly matter, since we know that the walls aren’t sound?”  
“Considering I’m trying to take you home with me, it might.”  
That was unexpected. Welcome, but unexpected.  
“FIFA tournament gone wrong. I tend to tickle when I don’t get my way.”  
“As long as you’re honest.”  
“As long as we’re being honest, I did mean to come meet you before bursting through your living room.”  
“Seeing as you didn’t, I think it might be a moot point.”  
“Excuse you, I have you on a date anyhow, don’t I?”  
Louis feels smug at his comeback, but doesn’t make it known. At least, he doesn’t think he does, but the pints he’s consumed may tell a different story. To be fair, he doesn’t think he’s ever had a better date, but that could be because of the way Harry is looking at him. It’s close to devouring, but he’s not sure if it’s carnal or mental. Either way, he could be fucked when it comes to this boy with the curls.  
“It’s just me and my sister, not a big family, but it’s a good one.”  
“I’ve got 5 brothers and sisters meself, and it’s loud, but going home is like a party.”  
“Do you go home often?”  
“As much as I can.”  
\--  
He’s not sure when this turned from a date to a seduction, but he does know when he’s being picked up and kissed thoroughly, he’s likely to end up in someone’s bed. He has no objections, and it’s a miracle that he can actually think, but he’s got a singular goal in mind, and he won’t be deterred. Louis Tomlinson is adept at men. He’s good at making them moan, finding their weaknesses, and taking them down. But it seems that Harry is equally good.  
He’s always been weak for his neck, and once Harry bites softly at it and feels him erupt into gooseflesh, he knows it, too. And his neck is assaulted by soft lips and just enough teeth. Just enough to make him start making noises that Harry sucks right back into his mouth. Teeth graze over his bottom lip, and he is gone. Pliant. Bent to Harry’s will and Harry’s alone before he can even comprehend that he has been played at his own game, and played well.   
His hips are squeezed and brought to Harry’s, and Louis is on fire.  
His head is in Harry’s hands and he’s being tilted to accept the pleasure he’s being given. Harry is in no hurry, apparently, taking all the time in the world to explore this singular part of Louis. He’s practically feasting on his neck, and it’s doing Louis in.   
By the time Louis can even figure out how to make his body take control again, Harry has him thrown on the couch. Louis flips them, climbing on top, and Harry’s hands find his hips again, angling them down and gripping them deliciously.   
“It’s no wonder this arse took down a wall,” Harry murmurs.  
And that’s it. Louis refuses to do anything but be in control, now.   
He is merciless, crashing into Harry’s lips with purpose, biting and sucking and licking while he moans underneath him. His hips move rapidly, and he is absolutely gone for the sensation.  
He is until Harry places a hand on his neck and picks him up, cradling him to his chest and moving them to the bedroom.  
\--  
As it turns out, Harry Styles is incredibly adept at Louis Tomlinson.  
Louis Tomlinson has no complaints.


End file.
